Welcome to the first part of my 2-part story. I wrote thisd last year for English, based on the theme of "true beauty"

Hope you like it!!

Miasma

Prince of Morocco: Why, that's the lady: all the world desires her

The Merchant of Venice, Act II, Scene VIII

All she wanted was to be pretty.

Everyone else around her was prettier than she was. She wasn't ugly; just not pretty. Even when she wore makeup, she was still a step behind the rest; behind them. The popular girls. The ones who were always one step ahead of everyone else. The ones who had their own credit cards. The ones who were always on top of the latest fashions-in Europe-; her family in Europe didn't respond to her emails as fast as they updated their wardrobe. Yes, those girls.

Not that anyone ever said she wasn't pretty. No, every morning they said, "Good morning honey, you look lovely today" or "Hey, you look nice today". But they were lies, all lies. They saw her every day, saw her plain face, too-bushy eyebrows and chewed-off nails. Her long, gangly arms, and thin hair that wouldn't do anything, no matter how much product there was in it.

Yes, she wanted to be pretty. Her bathroom counter was crowded with cleansers, toners and moisturizers; crèmes, geleès, and scrubs; creams for her eyes, hands, feet, face, lips, nose, eyebrows, and ears. All were applied religiously every morning and evening, each label checked for only the finest Swiss, Chinese, Austrian, French, Italian, British and Cuban ingredients. But they didn't help. Nothing ever would.

She got home from school that Thursday, just like any other Thursday. She had her routine. Go to school, come home, do home work, shower. Wash her face: cleanser, toner, moisturizer, revitalizing crème, gelèe pore tightener. Then she wrote in her journal, and went to bed.

Her journal was most precious; in it lived her secrets. In it she kept her deepest desires not superficial ones. In it, she kept her stories, her songs, her poems, her dreams, her everything. In it she kept all the art that no one would ever see. They would laugh at it, just like they laughed behind her back. She never caught them, but she knew they were laughing. So she kept the journal hidden, in a small wooden box, with a lock and a key.

As she was writing in her journal that night, just like every night, something happened. It was subtle at first, just a hint of red around the edges, like it was under a red light, then it got deeper and deeper, until the entire page was deep red. She looked up. The whole room was bathed in a red light. She looked out the window and saw the moon, painted crimson. Then she saw a small sliver of pale white against the encroaching red, it was an eclipse. But what could eclipse the moon? And what bathed the earth in red light?

Mars. The moon was being eclipsed by Mars. This couldn't be happening. She got up off her bed, and went to turn on the TV, maybe there would be something on the news explaining this. She went to leave the room when she stepped in something. Something that shouldn't be there. Something glossy and reflective, like a mirror, but in a liquid form.

She couldn't contemplate the liquid glass any longer, though, because she saw something. It was herself, but it wasn't. It was definitely her, it moved when she did, but it looked different. The girl in the liquid mirror had long, smooth arms, tall, well proportioned legs and a slender, angular face. She reached down to touch the surface, but she slipped and fell flat on the floor. At least she should have hit the floor. Instead, she fell through the liquid mirror.

Down she fell, like "Alice in Wonderland", except she fell through a mirror. So really, it was more of a "Through the Looking Glass". Her laugh was swept away by the rushing air. After she had fallen for what could be a minute or a year, she hit the ground. But before she could get up, something careened into her face. It looked like a glittery snowflake. Then another, and another, until they were sticking to her, like snow, but instead of getting cold, the flakes warmed up soon they burned her skin. Her cry was covered by the snowflakes.

Then, as soon as it began, it stopped. There was no more burning, no more glitter, no more nothing. She wondered where she was. Under her was definitely a surface of some sort, so she could touch things. She could still breathe and move, so she still had a body, the snowflakes didn't just burn it all away. That was a good thing.

She got up and looked around. Fog. There was nothing but fog all around her. Then she realized she hadn't been breathing. She inhaled. So she still needed to breath. As she inhaled, a peculiar scent rode the air, not pleasant, but not horrible. Just…there. It had the faint tinge of raw meat, but nothing too horrid. She decided to see where she was and how she had gotten there.

She stood up. The fog seemed to condense around her a bit, like static. She raised her arm to wave the fog away. There in front of her was the arm of the girl in the mirror. She couldn't believe her eyes. She flexed the perfectly manicured hand, and it clenched into a fist. She released, so did it. She waved at the fog, it had a light substance, not so much fog as mist, and not so much mist as more of a cloud. As she stood contemplating the shroud around her, she didn't notice the five shadows closing in on her.

Cliffie!!!! Sorry I left it off like that!

Tune in next Thursday for the second part!!